


Stop, Mr. Fell, Please

by IHidMyFaceFromYouNoMore



Series: Miss Ashtoreth & Mr. Fell Have a Torrid Affair [4]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: (no actual people are being cheated on in the fic’s reality), (no actual people aren’t consenting in the fic’s reality), (sigh) alright here it is:, Aziraphale as a Handsome Stranger, Aziraphale has to be way more Top-ish than usual, Brief Mention of Blood/Cuts from Knife Play, Consensual Kink, Crowley as Nanny Ashtoreth, Crying, Dacryphilia, Established Relationship, F/M, Fantasies of Dubious Consent, Fantasies of Infidelity, Fantasy, Hair Pulling, Knife Play, PWP, Roleplay, Sexual Fantasy, Sexual Roleplay, Spanking, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, and lookie here i forgot one of the smut tags again !, edit: FUCK I FORGOT ONE OF THE IMPORTANT ONES, female!Crowley, i always feel like i forget something it's gonna nag me for a while, i'm fairly sure i got 'em now though. so. enjoy !, male!Aziraphale, ok. it should be good now.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-22
Updated: 2019-08-22
Packaged: 2020-09-24 01:17:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20349958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IHidMyFaceFromYouNoMore/pseuds/IHidMyFaceFromYouNoMore
Summary: Crowley and Aziraphale come to an agreement about what to do with Miss/Mrs. Ashtoreth and Francis.





	Stop, Mr. Fell, Please

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is going to be different from the three others in a few ways, one of them being that there is an element of dubious consent in the roleplaying this time. 
> 
> It is fairly brief that the dubious-ness of it plays in, and Crowley and Aziraphale are consenting in the fic's reality, but I know this isn't comfortable to read about for all people. So please be advised, otherwise: enjoy the fic !

“Tell me that you don’t want to try it and we won’t.” Crowley sat adjacent to Aziraphale in their respective armchairs, the evening having taken a turn somewhere along the hours. Aziraphale knew that they ought to talk about this subject ever since last time they had played out their little fantasy. He just had trouble expressing himself, though that wasn’t anything new.

“I don’t not want to  — I, uh, I just have — _concerns_.” His cocoa was abandoned to the little coffee-table between them. What he didn’t know was that Crowley surreptitiously kept it warm with a tiny demonic miracle in the back of her mind. 

She knew she had to pry the follow-up out of him with the way Aziraphale had phrased his sentence. “Alright, then — what are your concerns?” 

Aziraphale had his palms on his knees in an anxious positioning. He hung fire while staring into the fireplace, which was smoldering at that perfect golden hour. 

But it had to come out eventually. “It’s just like I told you before, I really wouldn’t like to hurt you. What if it goes wrong? You would feel terrible, I would feel terrible.” 

“Angel, we’re not talking torture. I don’t want you to waterboard me.” Crowley got a tight smile from Aziraphale, though he still seemed apprehensive. 

Crowley knew she had to show him how serious she was, and she couldn’t do that with jokes. She got up from her chair only to descend to her knees to be beside his. 

“For one, you can’t harm my physical body. We'll heal it when we’re done anyway. Don't think of it as hurting me; think of it as... helping me. Relieving me.” She covered his tense hands with her own relaxed ones. “And I know you wouldn’t overstep the mark, I trust you that much.”

Aziraphale's knuckles loosened up little by little in her vicinity. “I do want to believe that.”

“Yes, because I know you want to try it too.” She pulled herself up in order to drape herself over him and have his face in her hands so she could kiss his cheek.

“I’ve never hit you before. It feels like a milestone I wouldn’t want to reach in any other context.” Aziraphale phrased his feelings in such an Aziraphale-like fashion. Crowley smiled as she looked in his face again for any sign of doubt. There was none. 

"I know you can't do that to me —” Crowley kissed him once more on the cheek as she spoke softly, “but Mr. Fell _can_. And he wants to. He's furious."

“He feels he’s been wronged.” Aziraphale said with a little more strength to his voice. “He  — he has to show her how serious he is. You don’t wrong him without punishment, then?” Aziraphale looked at her with something carefully emerging in his gaze, something Crowley wanted to nurture further into reality. 

“Yes. Yes. He still wants her above all, but he won’t let it go too easily. He needs to show her that there are consequences.” 

“Yes.” And Aziraphale kissed back, making Crowley feel there was something brewing in his kiss now too. Crowley felt as though she had unleashed something upon the world, and she was ready to take it on. Her arms went tighter around Aziraphale, needing more of him and getting it like so. 

-

Mrs. Ashtoreth was at home in the empty cottage. Crowley was pretending to read a book as a bit of realism, before there was a sound of a few knocks to take her out of her experience. She cautiously opened the door. 

“Mr. Fell, I  —” She did her finest to act closed-off as she spoke her lines. “I told you not to come here. Please, I —” 

One hand blocked her from shutting the front door as he pushed his way inside. “I won’t accept it. Not even the decency of an explanation, and I am to believe we are no longer involved?” He locked the door behind him calmly despite his irate voice. 

“What are you doing? I — I'm sorry. I just can’t have this anymore.” She held her hands out defensively, flinching convincingly when he took them. 

“What changed? Did you find someone new, is that it? _Explain it _to me.” 

Crowley almost didn’t realize she was being backed into the wall, her hands pinned by her sides. “No, I — I’ve decided to stay true to my husband. We've found our way back. And I can’t have you if I'm going to be there for him again, I just can’t. I'm sorry —” 

He pinched her hands, making her squirm more under his livid eyes. “You’re not. You're not sorry, and you won’t succeed with him. It won’t be long before you’ll need me again — and you need me to take you in the only way I can with you.” 

“I’m sorry —” 

“You’ll be sorry if you don’t think this through properly.” He released her hands but didn’t back away. “What changed, Miss Ashtoreth?” 

Crowley was close to bringing up the naming thing, feeling like Mrs. Ashtoreth would want to ask for her old title back, but she bit her tongue for now. “We tried again. To be like we used to in our early years. He's beginning to understand what I need. Please, Mr. Fell —” 

She gently pushed at his shoulders to get him at a distance, but he brushed her off by carding a hand through her hair, then holding on to her scalp a little too tightly, making her wince. 

“He _won’t_ change. You might as well realize that now, spare yourself the lost time.” He began by trailing his other hand over her skirt, finding the crevice of her thighs to dip into. 

“Stop  — please —” 

Aziraphale would have stopped. Mr. Fell, however, kept her head in place with the one hand, his other hand hiking her skirts up to feel under the layers what he had done before. 

“Tell me you don’t want this, and I will stop. Don't lie to me.” 

Crowley bit back a whine. She looked at him with glossy eyes, a desperate expression. Her hands were powerless at her sides, letting him feel her through her undergarment, his deft fingers circling her lips and clit, making her erect in just a few tense moments. She wasn’t speaking for now, just staring at him with heavy breaths. 

“Please — it’s — I shouldn’t, I —” Her unblinking eyes became glossier before a pair of tears trailed down her bottom eyelashes. She blinked again and again as she whimpered a sob out, the tear-streams lightly blackened from her mascara. Aziraphale stopped in his tracks. He wanted to wipe her wet cheeks but feared it would be too kind for his character. 

He instead collected a breath and pulled his hand away from below, making Mrs. Ashtoreth think for a moment that he had stopped. But he dragged her by her hair from the wall with a sharp sob from her, Crowley almost lost her footing as they exited the hallway. 

He pushed her head to the neatly made bed, letting go of her hair in order to get her face-down. The intricate lacing of her dress wasn’t going to be a problem tonight. Aziraphale materialized another pocket-knife, using it to cut from her collar to the end of her skirt in a rougher manner this time. When he parted the garment from her nearly naked body, he found slim red cuts here and there from places where he hadn’t been careful enough to not graze her. Aziraphale vanished the knife, quelling his guilt. 

Crowley turned to look over her shoulder, her expression fearful, though Aziraphale convinced himself that Crowley was telling him it was okay with her eyes.  She was about to ask him what he was doing but was cut off by Aziraphale sitting himself down on the bed, dragging her thighs over his lap. 

“You wanted excitement, danger?” One hand was firmly around her thigh just above her stocking. The other hand, Crowley couldn’t feel on her until she realized what was about to happen. 

Aziraphale did have a moment of doubt, right as he drew up his hand. The doubt evaporated when he remembered her words from earlier. 

Crowley’s head shot up with a gasp as Aziraphale landed the first hit to her rear, his palm drawn back immediately with expert restraint. He repeated, getting a louder reaction out of Crowley with each iteration, her entire body tensing and de-clenching in the seconds between the thrashings. Crowley had pressed her face to the counterpane but had lifted her hips slightly above Aziraphale’s lap now, begging him to keep giving her _more_. 

And he did, reddening her cheeks with every stroke, his own breathing becoming erratic with the passing moment. If Crowley had stayed down in his lap, she would have felt his hardening cock reaching for her. He too was subtly begging to be touched, to be handled by her. 

He paused his onslaught to draw her panties aside, getting a look at her glistening lips. “You really did want excitement and danger, hm?” His finger slipped around her, coating them with her wetness as Crowley moaned into the bed. “If you want more, you will have to tell me.” 

Crowley still stayed put but lifted her face from the bedspread once Aziraphale went inside her, two fingers steadily fucking her. Her moan finally turned into a word: “_Yes._” 

“Yes, _what?_” 

“Yes, I do, I do want more — more...” Crowley felt him caress her walls, running over a sensitive place with his curled fingers. 

“More of what?” He calmly baited her. 

Her tears began anew, this time with a slower movement over the already dried up black trails. “More of you, Mr. Fell — touching me. In me — being in me, _oh, God_ —” He had removed his fingers to circle her clit again, making Crowley press herself against his hand. 

Right then, Aziraphale maneuvered her to lie back on the bed, faced up, giving him the opportunity to position himself with his clothed cock over her. He took her right hand into his own and slid the gold ring off her finger. He let it fall from his hand over the side of the bed, letting it disappear. 

“Go on,” he said, simply. 

Crowley's free hands now went down to open his trouser-front, hastily pulling his cock from its confines, her hands wanting to stroke him and feel him in her grasp before desperately pulling her panties aside again, taking him to her lower lips so he could lean into her. 

As soon as Aziraphale was inside he started up a punishing pace, making Crowley scream with a power Mrs. Ashtoreth hadn’t had before. Her now-red painted fingernails dug into his scalp, his shoulder, telling him: ‘don’t even think about going anywhere’. Crowley's boot-clad feet went around Aziraphale’s waist and with her arms around him too they had barely an inch between them with how she constricted him, every surface rubbing against the other as they fought together. 

“You’re too good for him, Miss Ashtoreth —” Aziraphale said between his panting, “You need this — I — I need you —” 

“I do — I do —” Crowley grit her teeth under the pressure, writhing under him. The only part of their bodies that wasn’t connected was their faces, which Crowley soon mended as she pulled Aziraphale down for a teethy kiss, resisting the urge to bite him, sink her phantom fangs into his lips. Crowley nearly thought she had sprouted her scales from it all, she hadn’t felt so inhuman in a long time; she hadn’t expected Aziraphale to bring this out in her by fucking her viciously, demonically. She tightened at the thought, getting another scream from Aziraphale. 

In an unprecedented happening, Crowley came from the sheer ferocity of lust they had created, as if possessed while she peaked, she came hard around him as he kept going. Aziraphale inadvertently slipped out between his thrusting, ending up rubbing his slick cock against Crowley’s tender cunt, her clit finally getting treated again though it was making her cry out once more from the hypersensitivity of everything as he came over the edge, between them, all in a blur. 

Both were sweating to their mutual surprise as things began to calm down. Aziraphale thought of miracling their mess away but Crowley beat him to it. She still laid back, exhausted, feeling like she was in her own body and mind again, glancing over at him sitting beside her. 

Crowley reached for a wet wipe by the nightstand to cleanse her cheeks of their black mess. She then remembered the slits on her back and thighs, healing them on her next exhale. She left the red marks on her lower cheeks. Aziraphale noticed, feeling warm inside again at the reminder. They were both sitting up, now having caught their breaths again. 

“You never fail to surprise me, angel.” Crowley grinned warmly. 

“No?” Aziraphale made a nervous chuckle, “Good to know.” He wasn’t sure what else to say that wouldn’t make the moment awkward. Crowley seemed untouched by this, however, as she simply went on with her routine of removing her remaining clothing and jewelry. 

“Mr. Fell wins in the end, eh? I thought you would choose Francis.” She inadvertently glanced over the floor, catching in her sight the gold ring lying there. No use in retrieving it now. 

“Oh, I don’t know why … It could’ve gone either way, couldn’t it?” 

“Yeah, I think that’s how chance works. But I'm glad it turned out this way.” Undressed, Crowley took her hair down to comb through it. Aziraphale felt odd not doing anything besides sitting there, but he somehow couldn’t break the spell yet. 

He was in a musing mood. “Do you think they’ll go off together? Miss Ashtoreth will leave Brother Francis and Mr. Fell will — go away with her, start a life, the two of them?” 

Aziraphale knew somewhere that he was asking this in order to begin to round off their adventure. If Miss Ashtoreth and Mr. Fell had nowhere to go from here, then maybe — maybe Crowley and Aziraphale could take over. Have their own fantasy just for them. But this time, the fantasy would exist. 

“I dunno — it wouldn’t really make sense if she goes away, does it? I’m still gonna be here, I can’t just — go off into the sunset. I don’t see what you mean.” 

Crowley liked playing out their fantasy. She liked it because she felt like she had finally found a way to keep Aziraphale interested in something intimate for them to do, and if they ended the fantasy here — then what? The uncertainty was not worth it. 

“Oh. Of course. Nevermind.” Aziraphale started to remove his clothing, knowing that he’d have to get ready for bed. At least he could find solace in sleeping almost each night next to Crowley, that was never going to be just a fantasy. 

She looked at him, observing the way he took off his socks, studying his sudden silence. “Something the matter, angel?” 

“Why, why would anything be the matter?” 

“It’s just — you seem a little quieter. I dunno.” 

Aziraphale left his shirt half-unbuttoned, stopping to look at Crowley. “It’s just — I've never seen you cry before, is all. Very nearly caught me off guard. For a hot moment I wanted to — stop everything.” 

Crowley didn’t know what to say for a while. Luckily it didn’t last. “Well, I — I learned a few things over the years. Those weren’t, like, completely real tears. It's just very easy to be in the role around you. You made it feel very real — visceral. I liked that.” 

Aziraphale looked more than a little sheepish when meeting Crowley’s gaze. “As long as you — as we both liked it, then.” 

“Always good to me, you are, angel. Never failing.” 

And Aziraphale now started to feel as if it had all been worth it, his guilt beginning to be mended with just a few words. He went back to unbuttoning his shirt with a little smile. Crowley went up to kiss his cheek for a second longer than she ought to. 

**Author's Note:**

> It feels like I've come to a sort of end station for this series, so I would like to take the opportunity to round it off properly(unless I somehow find a continuation for this, because ya never know!), so here goes:
> 
> It's been an unbelievable few weeks of writing this series and that’s very much to do with the unbelievable mass of response I have been getting from all of you out there who read these fics. 
> 
> I have never before gotten this kind of response from people who are so vocal, who are so generous with their praise, who love Good Omens and my interpretation of the characters from the book/show enough to comment on my stuff. 
> 
> I made it a goal to respond to every comment I get and it’s the best part of my days to go and find new comments from readers, old and new, who want to voice their support. 
> 
> Though I always invite critique, I haven’t gotten a single nasty message(yet! Don't let this inspire you lol), so I must be doing something right, but also it’s incredible to me that our Good Omens fandom is filled with so many kind people who like to comment and kudo and subscribe and bookmark. You've made this fun for everyone, and I hope to be writing more material for us in the future.


End file.
